A Song for the Sensitive, the Idiot Song.
from the album Monty Python Live at Drury Lane
Transcribed by Tak Ariga <oldeng@gpu.utcs.toronto.edu> Aug/87xhtml version by Mats Peterson
<matsp888@yahoo.com> 2013‐02‐08

How sweet to be an Id­iot,
As harm­less as a cloud,
Too small to hide the sun
Al­most pok­ing fun,
At the warm but in­se­cure un­tidy crowd.
How sweet to be an id­iot,
And dip my brain in joy,
Chil­dren laugh­ing at my back,
With no fear of at­tack,
As much re­tal­i­a­tion as a toy.

How sweet to be an id­iot, how sweet.

I tip­toed down the street,
Smiled at every­one I meet,
But sud­dent­ly a scream,
Smash­es through my dream,
Fie fye foe fum,
I smell the blood of an asy­lum,
(Blood of an asy­lum,
But moth­er I play so beau­ti­ful­ly,
lis­ten. ha ha)
Fie fye foe fum,
I smell the blood of the asy­lum,
Hey you, you’re such a pen­nant,
You got as much brain as a dead ant,
As much in­ag­i­na­tion as a car­van sign.

But I still love you, still love you,
Oooh how sweet to be an id­iot,
How sweet. how sweet. How sweet.